


miles to go before i sleep

by vinvy



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinvy/pseuds/vinvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	miles to go before i sleep

Bruce woke up with his heart racing and the Other Guy snarling in his ear.  
"Go do your homework until I call you for dinner."  
  
"Calm down it was just a dream," Bruce said for both of their sakes-- it was a welcome reminder.  
  
Shouting. A fist slammed into a table.  
  
Bruce focused on every muscle in his body, tensing and relaxing them from his toes up. "It was a nightmare-- it's over."  
  
"-- coddling that damn freak of a boy! Fucking mutants--"  
  
He was up to his calves. The Other Guy pulled at the skin of his back. Bruce tried to calm him-- now was not the time to break the Law of Conservation of Mass. (No time was the time to break that particular law of physics but it was best to pick his battles wisely.)  
Hiding behind the couch had seemed like a good idea when the shouting came into the living room. It wasn't.  
  
By the time he'd gotten to the muscles in his shoulders he could breathe again. The Other Guy had stopped threatening to split the skin from his back and Bruce stopped reliving the murder of his mother at the hands of his father. (The man had been insane, convinced his son was a mutant-- though that would have been his own genetic fault, not Bruce's.)  
  
He could still smell blood, though, and the roast that had been burning in the oven. That was the problem with having a hyperactive amygdala and a good memory-- olfactory triggers and memetic ones went hand in hand to create a vicious cycle of irrational panic.  
  
The Other Guy grumbled to be let out, to work off the residual discomfort.  
  
Bruce got out of bed and dressed. "Not today," he said. That was, of course, always what he told the Other Guy. Not today, later, no, be quiet-- always so scared.  
  
Impatience slithered under his skin as he went to make himself coffee. He didn't bother with it often except for mornings like this, when he needed an overpowering and earthy scent (that was not tied to memories of broken bones and being shaken into silence) to bring him back to reality.


End file.
